


Gloryhole Filth

by Billy the Brat (WithKeyLymes)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Bathroom Sex, Crossdressing, Dark, Excess foreskin, Excess precum, Foreskin Play, Gloryhole, Hook-Up, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Knotted cock, M/M, Non-human, PWP (if it wasn't obvious by now), Sad Ending, Sibling incest (barely; separately raised half brothers), high school student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7284682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithKeyLymes/pseuds/Billy%20the%20Brat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been meeting in this dingy bathroom week-after-week.  Each week has brought a Fitzroy a growing certainty that he knows the owner of the lips beyond that bathroom stall and the proof is only a few steps away.  Tonight, he can no longer stave off his curiosity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gloryhole Filth

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: Story below contains mention of PTSD, sexual abuse, flashbacking, self-degradation, drug abuse, and impulsive/risky behaviour.
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Characters are half-siblings, genetic experiments sharing one of two donors. Story continues in a dark direction after sex. Fitzroy is a gluttony/liberality hybrid, and Phineas is gluttony/patience.
> 
> I drew an illustration to go with the picture -- NSFW, explicit content: http://imgur.com/ymoJ8NK

Despite the cloth that taped down his ears, the music from the dance floor still pulsed through Phineas' mind, making the world around him tremble at the edges. Plopping down once more on the edge of the toilet seat, he took a steadying breath of putrescence and stale vomit. His stomach curled.

_'Maybe I should have him meet me somewhere else next time. It's not like this is the only sinkhole in town that I wouldn't normally be caught dead in...'_ Behind his eyes, his thoughts played in a round and piled up messily somewhere in the center of his head. Another steadying breath as he smacked his lips together, trying to keep his black eyes focused on the useless shoes he was using to hide his telltale hooves. Black hi-tops, produced to look as though they'd been spattered with neon paint. They swam before his eyes, and he moaned softly. Meth was the only drug he knew that made the world quiver so violently, and despite assurances, it was looking like the pill he'd swallowed was more speedball than ecstasy.

Phineas sucked in a wry laugh at the sound of the door opening, heart leaping into his throat as he felt a warm stirring behind his navel. He swallowed thickly as he listened to what sounded like a group chattering at sink, two of them entering and leaving separate stalls. Holding his breath, he listened a few moments after the door opened and closed again, feeling lightheaded when he heard lone footsteps crossing the tile floor. Damp fishnet clung to his arms, and he was sure that the makeup around his eyes was running, but the thought of whose cock he'd be swallowing brought him to his knees.

 

Fitzroy stood alone in this seedy downtown hipster bar from hell and battled with his hesitations. Somehow this little meet-up, this _routine_ , was beginning to leave a bitter taste in his mouth; him, Fitzroy, who could swallow anything. What about this place, that stall (that _mouth_ ) stirred up his feelings so? Even as his senses begged him to head home, he knew that he'd stay and follow through.

The built-up hunger of his loins was too ravenous to ignore for much longer.

_Nothing for it._ The spawn of heaven and hell quaffed down the last of his mudslide. Chilled alcoholic sweetness swam through his veins and, as he'd hoped, blunted the edges of his anxieties. There was nothing to worry about anyway. He had his plan, and it was solid. It may not answer of his questions, but at the very least it would provide Fitzroy with a hint – and a taste.

He approached the bathroom just as a pair were exiting and carefully avoided their eyes. Inside, the familiar human scents overpowered him, and the glutton's stomach twisted in something not quite revulsion and almost like desire. Second stall from the end, open just as promised, with a subtle hole drilled through the left side; the precipice. Fitzroy licked his lips as his shrugged down his boxers with distant, eager eyes. He played with his cock absently, bringing it closer to its full strength, then took a deep breath and knocked four times on the stall.

Even before the other boy answered he was rubbing his head against the tempting darkness of the glory hole.

 

The drugs were going to Phineas' head, and he fought the butterflies that blossomed in his stomach as he heard the young man shuffling on the other side of the stall. If Fitzroy knew it was him, would he still show up like this? His ears twitched beneath their coverings, the cogs of his mind churning at hyper-speed as the world dragged along around him. Better yet, how would he react if he knew that the mouth he was spilling his seed into was still a high school student? A chuckle escaped his lips as he considered the likelihood that the well-known shotacon would probably be thrilled to know that he had been lured to a gloryhole by jailbait. What a story that would make, right?

On the edge of his mind, thoughts begged the desperate question: _No, Phin, what would he think if he knew it was **you**?_

The tapping knocked him from his reverie, fake lashes blinking unbidden tears from his eyes. He could feel his mouth watering as his gluttonous half-sibling's cockhead appeared through the stall, thick and throbbing as it swelled visibly. Beneath a ruffled black skirt, his own cock rose to attention, tip dribbling preemptively and bringing a flush to the crossdresser's face. His fishnet-clad hand trembled slightly as he wrapped it around the thick member he'd been presented with, flexing his short fingers as if to show off the size difference before he started pumping. Phineas wet his black-painted lips as he leaned forward, moaning softly and letting his warm breath play over the tip of his senpai's length, eyes glazed with lust. One free slender hand danced down his body and landed on his skirt, lifting it to expose his own need to any passers-by before popping the tip of his companion's into his mouth and suckling.

 

Fitzroy shuddered at the feeling of warmth enveloping his aching head, unable to hold back a small moan. He leaned his forearms against the stall, all the better to push more of his length through towards the other side, where pleasure was waiting, decked out in sexy goth lipstick. Every time he caught sight of that tempting black pout another shock ran down his spine straight to his cock, fueled by curiosity as much as lust. After tonight, those pretty lips could kiss whatever anonymity they once had goodbye.

A hiss escaped him just as the door opened. Shark teeth sealed his lips shut, but Fitzroy couldn't stop his hips from grinding, pushing even more of himself into his hook-up's waiting hole, up until his knot was pressed uncomfortably against the cool industrial metal. His face was burning and he felt sweaty all over, despite wearing only a light leather vest. He ached to be pressed against a warm body, no, _that_ warm body, just beyond this damn wall.

As soon as they were alone, Fitzroy snarled, a primal sound that rebounded off cold tile, mocking and arousing him. Thick fingertips drove fruitlessly into the stall as he pumped. His cock twitched, desperate as its master, dripping hot beads of fluid into that hot mouth.

“ _Fuck,”_ he whispered in a husky voice. “It's- I mean, you're- you're so damn good.”

 

It was pure bliss to feel that thick, needy organ grow hard in his throat, rewarding him with a steady dose of thick, salty syrup. The heady smell of sweat and pheromones filled the air around them both. Drugs and lust pumped through Phin's veins, making his blood boil and his hands tremble as he stroked himself and Fitzroy in time, stretching his drooping foreskin along the sensitive skin beneath it as he dribbled precum onto the tile beneath him. Tears clung to his stick-on lashes as the glutton took more and more of his old friend's girthy shaft down his throat, choking on his moans before they could pass his lips. Fingertips wedged inside the well-sanded hole, he massaged the underside of Fitzroy's cock.

Even the would-be interruption did nothing to deter the teenager's desires, stirring his wanton behaviour into a rhythm of motion, running his tongue to the very tip of his paramour's length before pushing forward once more, relentless until he felt the tip tickling the back of his throat. Thought was a long-distant concept as Fitzroy's hips made the stall shake, Phineas moaning as he pulled his head back to suckle the thick beads of precum from his head, the fingers of his idle hand sliding into the slick pocket of his foreskin, a femme groan passing his lips as he fingered his tip, his throbbing cock producing lubrication that could put a girl to shame.

Lost to pleasure, he was grateful that he had taught himself to keep his filthy mouth too full to ruin his charade by speaking.

 

He wasn't going to last much longer, that much was obvious, but Fitzroy couldn't care less. With a hazy half-grin he gripped the top of the stall and leaned his weight back, the better to catch just a glimpse of his partner. Delicate, painted fingers fumbling around something that could only be a modest little cock. The spawn shuddered in delight, the metal protrusions in his back vibrating. Whatever god saw fit to lead him towards these sorts of situations, he owed them his life...

Within him, something finally released. Brown eyes grew wide, then screwed shut, and Fitzroy groaned weakly, struggling under pleasure's burden. His length was on fire, driving into the other's wet, needy mouth, fucking his throat wide open, and in that moment of climax, there was nothing Fitzroy wanted more that to weave his hands into that stranger's hair and force his knot into them...

“Sh-Shit, I'm cumming, fuck, I'm-!”

To his credit, he tried to pull back, but it was fruitless. His amour was too greedy. Fitzroy felt himself spasm once, twice, thrice, before his breath rushed back into his lungs. He half-collapsed against the toilet and basked in momentary relief. An itch deep within him was finally soothed for a while.

But he wasn't allowing to stop there. Clearing his throat, Fitzroy stood carefully and called out, soft but firm.

“Wait. I want to do you, too. I mean, I- I want to see yours.”

A finger tapped the hole lightly.

“Through here.”

 

There was a metallic clattering in the small room, and with his dark eyes closed Phineas could almost see the face of the man behind the wall, brows knitted and toned body tense and sweat-slicked. He whimpered around the protrusion in his mouth in the same moment that the first burst of cum hit his palate, making his senses blur. Eyes rolling back, he let his hands fall limp before he did something messy like finishing on the dirty beige tile, relishing the sensation of Fitzroy's thick ropes of cum fill his greedy mouth. He swallowed with the tip of Fitzroy's cock resting on his tongue, suckling every drop of seed from the warm, deliciously-scented skin.

Everything became vivid again a bit too quickly for Phineas' tastes. On his hooves in a moment, the boy was trembling as he let the words float over him and watched Fitzroy stick a thick fingertip through the gloryhole. His mouth was so dry he couldn't swallow. Mind addled, he couldn't find a solution to the problem he was presented with; he could offer his cock through the hole, or he could sit in the stall silently and pray that Fitzroy leave. Somehow, he figured that the latter would destroy his chance to do this again.

Phineas' face felt hot as he lifted his black tutu, little cock twitching with each beat of his heart. Fueled by a chemical fire, his mind clouded with unpleasant words and thick fingers pinching and pulling at the excess skin at the end of his penis, and worse; torment that left him jumping at the innocent feeling of rubber bands against his skin. Goosebumps prickled the spawn's flesh and he sucked in a shaky breath, bracing his arms against the wall as he thrust his dripping boyhood through the hole.

 

Fitzroy didn't realize he was holding his breath until it whooshed out in relief when his partner stuck his adorable little dick through something as dirty as a gloryhole. His hand stroked it softly, relishing in its texture, which tickled something on the edge of this memory. Could it be...? He hoped (or did he dread?) but couldn't be sure – yet. No matter the truth, he knew he had to reward such bravery. After a moment's hesitation, his rasping voice filled the bathroom.

“Wow... That's a cute little cock you have. And is that a tutu you're wearing? Nice. Crossdressers are sexy, at least in my book.”

As he talked, Fitzroy steadily increased the pace of his strokes, focusing on the bunching of skin at the tip. His large fingers were surprisingly gentle as they coaxed the skin up and down the head, cupping it from underneath as it slowly grew under his ministrations. A faint ruddy flush appeared behind blotches of green. _Too sexy... This is getting out of hand..._

Before he knew it, Fitzroy had taken every available inch of his mystery lover into his mouth. His tongue danced, his lips caressed, his throat pulled. The taste alone was enough to make his jeans tent again.

 

Immediately, Phineas regretted his decision, wedging a hand between his teeth to keep from filling the room with his needy moans. Here he thought that he was keeping his identity safe, as though he would be able to keep his mouth shut in the light of such attention. A shuddering gasp and he nodded to himself, an impulsive response to the question that was coupled with a squeaky little moan, hips twitching in a possessed, jerky little rhythm.

If his fingers were gentle, Fitzroy's mouth was the soothing caress of the sea. Warmth surrounded his swollen, muscles already tensing in preparation for orgasm, a will he fought desperately. It had only just started and Phin couldn't believe how hard he was struggling to last. His tip drooled a constant trickle across the gentle texture of the man's tongue, his own panting filling the air around him. Saliva dripped past his painted lips, pleasure spiking beyond any sense of shame as he thrust through a hole in a bathroom stall, into the mouth of his teenhood rival.

 

He couldn't remember anyone making him feel so good in his life.

 

Fitzroy knew nothing but desire's hot embrace, stronger and more demanding than it had been in a long while. He lapped his tongue greedily against the boy's head, relishing in that salty-sweet taste, for it was the taste that confirmed all his suspicions. He knew the boy in the other stall, he was almost positive. From long ago, to be sure, but his tastebuds never lied. _Phineas..._

His mouth twisted into an awkward smile and he pressed himself harder against the cold steel. He let his teeth graze and chafe, but carefully, always carefully, and flicked his strong tongue up, around, and _in_ , utterly relentless in his passion. In his pants, his own cock was primed for more attention, but in this moment, Fitzroy had his sights firmly set on Phineas' release.

_Will his moans sound as sweet? If I see him, will he still get all weepy-eyed, or will he beg for more? Has someone already- Oh shit, Phin, come soon, please, I want you so fucking bad..._

 

Phineas was panting with reckless abandon, thrusting into the stall with the same force he might use with his hand. The feathers on his shoulders prickled as goosebumps traveled down his lust-drenched shoulders, whimpers piercing his heavy wanton breaths. His patience was waning, and the very concept made him want to throw himself into the college student's arms, compare the taste on his mouth to the savory spice that he remembered from his childhood.

The celestial hybrid's body grew tense and hot, every nerve burning as his thrusts became shorter, jerkier, little squeaks piercing his moans as his deluge of precum increased. Phin's mouth fell open, sounds growing less controlled and more needy, a final strangled cry breaking his voice as his hips beat against the stall relentlessly, his control crumbling at the sensation of Fitzroy's tongue curling against his delicate frenulum. His aching cock twitched once, twice, and finally, with an almost-agonized moan, emptied its small, sticky load into the back of his escort's throat.

 

Having his mouth filled with his half-brother's cum was almost enough to send Fitzroy over the edge, but he ignored the stickiness in his boxers and focused on cleaning off Phin's cock before he took it away. It was hard without being able to wrap an arm around his waist to keep him close. When he finally relinquished it, it was with a woeful look and a greedy lick of the lips.

For a moment he tried to be content, sitting there with a warm throat, mind filled with memories – but it was no good. He needed to see him. Hold him, even. Fitzroy pushed himself to his feet and did up his zipper with nervous hands.

First, he went and locked the door to the bathroom. Then, he forced himself to knock on the last stall and call out in somewhat of an even voice.

“Can I come in, Phin?”

 

Phineas was quick to pull himself back through the hole and towel himself off with the rough paper that the club so gracious provided. He felt strangely nauseous, though he couldn't yet place why. There was nothing about what just happened that was particularly unpleasant, though the uniqueness of having gotten off himself struck him as the apex of the trepidation in his heart.

The real chord was struck when, instead of the sound of the door opening and closing, he heard a metallic click, and returning footsteps. Everything went sideways when Fitzroy addressed _him_ – by name.

A flood of different emotions tumbled around his mind, but each and every one was too intense, too extreme to come pouring out of him after what had just happened. His fishnet-clad hands trembled and, without responding, he nervously untied the canvas shoes from his feet, his hooves clicking softly on the floor as he unlocked the bathroom stall and pulled it open. His posture indicated that he wasn't about to stay in the stall, nor was he going to allow company in there with him, but he had yet to shove past the older male; not that he looked as though he could.

Half-slouched in the doorway, Phineas was an absolute wreck in a goth-punk outfit that would be equally at home on a ten-dollar whore. Dark eye makeup was smeared with tears and sweat, and his silken hair was in frizzed knots beneath the black beanie that pinned down his ears. Through red-rimmed eyes, he looked Fitzroy up and down, trying to act as though he had nothing to hide, no reason to be embarrassed that he was in full-drag before a childhood friend, soliciting anonymous blowjobs in a seedy bathroom (in a twenty-one-and-over club, no less). He folded his arms and wobbled unsteadily, leaning against the stall door as though it was his original intent. “ _What_?”

 

Fitzroy could only stare at first, thunderstruck. His mind reeled against the facts like a fish pulling on the line. He didn't want to believe that this broken shell was the same delicate thing that had finished in his mouth just moments ago. Phineas was a proud boy, a show-off; he'd never degrade himself willingly. Would he?

For a moment Fitzroy wanted to cry. Now that he was here, he found himself at a bit of a loss. They weren't even friends, after all – more like enemies, or perhaps rivals. He couldn't apologize, or make a joke, or even hold him close. He was embarrassing them both.

His eyes flashed up sharply when Phineas fell against the door. Several little hints made themselves known at once, and suddenly Fitzroy understood part of his childhood friend's journey to this backwater place. Blood pumped angrily in his ears, and he feared for a moment that he might lose his cool – but it was all good. Fitzroy breathed deep and looked evenly at Phin, one conciliatory hand outstretched.

“Wanna grab a bite to eat? My treat?”

 

Phineas kept his dark eyes pinned, unseeing, on the man standing in front of him. His brows were leveled, casting the same dark, angry shadow he always wore across his face. Beneath his breastbone, his heart fluttered like a wounded bird, terrified and cornered and determined to escape. Standing still was making his meth-addled blood twitch and jump under his skin, leaving him with an itch that left his leg bouncing against the tile floor with soft little taps.

His face flushed, eyes following with a wave of blurring tears; attempting to blink them away only causing them to cling to the stylized costume lashes that edged his eyes. _A bite to eat? And be seen in – this?! Honestly, don't you ever even_ think _you altruistic prick?_ With a glance aside and a curl of his tongue, Phineas slapped away his hook-up's gesture of good faith, the contact making his skin tingle.

“Interesting time to be inviting me out to dinner, don't you think?” he snapped, voice slurred around the edges. “What, you feel guilty now that you know I'm the one who's been sucking your cock like a proper whore? Or do you just feel sorry for me, from your lofty, college-educated position?”

 

Fitzroy's expression was that of a tricked child. He let his hand drop limply to his side, eyes thunderstorming, and struggled to keep his thoughts in order, keep from crying. None of this was going right. Wasn't he excited just a bit ago, even happy? Hadn't Phineas been happy too? It spiraled out of his control faster than he could blink and, before he could stop them, bitter thoughts began to rise from long-forgotten graves.

_Stupid Phineas._

_Why is he always such a cunt?_

_I wanted to..._

_Faggot._

When he finally found his voice again, it was hollow and emotionless; a stranger's voice, faded, as if from very far away.

“It doesn't make me guilty to know you sucked me off, Phin, that's stupid. You just looked like you haven't had something decent to eat in weeks. Sorry that I offended you with my concern.”

He bit his lip; what was he saying? Fitzroy looked up, eyes heavy with compassion and more than a bit of fear, and tried to read Phineas' mind.

“Are you doing alright? 'Cause you look like hell. And I'm not trying to be a dick. You seriously look like you've gone through hell.”

 

The dejected response was a far cry from the typical defensiveness that his behaviour brought out in people. Ruffles, he was unsure of how to react, the muscles of his throat contracting when Fitzroy _looked_ at him with that sweet, compassionate bleed to his milk chocolate eyes. Innocent though it was, the young man's comment struck the truest chord in Phineas' troubled mind.

For a moment, he looked confused, bewildered even, as if he were reacting to deja vu. Behind a thin veil, his mind and body flooded with memories and sensations that he would be better off forgetting, memories he had been drowning in the murky air of seedy clubs and their foul-smelling bathrooms, choking down distractions in pills and cum and--

He was sobbing.

Knees buckled and eyes still gazing listlessly at some unseen entity, Phineas found himself in tears in front of someone he was supposed to be fighting, blood rushing in his ears. He had no idea whose mouth was moving, but there were no sounds coming out as he shook his head and stumbled out of the bathroom, rail-thin body wracked with painful sobs. Dazed-yet-coherent, he found his way to an indoor staircase. It smelled like mildew and vomit and a little like piss, but something about the consistency of the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead and the acoustics made them a consistent safe place for Phin and his emotions. Overwhelmed, he staggered to sit on the bottommost step, taking a few steadying breaths before he felt the tears well up again, boiling salt water against dried-up eyes. Unable to fight any longer, finally alone, he collapsed into his lap, wrapping his slender arms about his shoulders and tucking his knees to his chest, crying the only place it was safe:

Alone.

 


End file.
